


The Charm of Adventure

by line_greys



Series: Post Black Eagles Route Headcanons [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adventure, Caspar makes friends with a horse, Comedy, Gen, Linhardt learns that adventure can be fun, Male Friendship, No Angst, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Some Action, Some Fluff, Travel, can be read as romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/line_greys/pseuds/line_greys
Summary: Caspar is someone whodoesthings, and Linhardt somehow always ends up getting dragged into them.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: Post Black Eagles Route Headcanons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057841
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! here’s some dumb comedic linhardt/caspar adventure fun i wrote to (hopefully) cheer you up in these glum times :) it’s rated gen but it’s shippable, depends on how you’d like to read it! have fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 1: where linhardt and caspar acquire a horse

Caspar is a rock, jumping and pitchpoling down a bumpy cliff. He is not one to discuss, plan, or hesitate. He acts on instinct and hits walls that could probably be avoided. He does not stop and doubt, sit back and watch, watch and learn. But he is fast, and he gets places. 

Caspar is someone who _does_ things, and Linhardt somehow always ends up getting dragged into them. 

“You SAID there was going to be a path.” Linhardt pants exasperatedly, at the very end of his physical reserves. He is tired, he is hungry, and the abandoned forest track they are treading is not exactly what one would call “even”. He lifts his foot to peel off stones stuck in the sole of his right boot. 

“Well, it’s starting to appear that I was wrong.” Caspar says, eyeing their surroundings in genuine confusion. Hands sticked into his sides, he’s not at all out of breath, but rather worked up and ready to tackle another segment. “But don’t blame me, it was a really strange map, I could barely read it.”

“I implore you to leave the map reading to me next time...” Linhardt huffs, falling down to sit on the trunk of a storm-fallen tree. His hair is hanging down into his eyes and he swipes it back. He curses whoever invented such an atrocious thing as physical activity because for him, merely preparing for a hike is already exhausting enough.

“I wanted to leave it to you, but you — I quote your very words — didn’t feel like looking at it.” Caspar reminds him unapologetically.

He is right. For (probably) just once in the whole span of their lives Caspar is right, and Linhardt has only himself to blame for being stuck in this painfully ordinary forest somewhere at the borders of the Empire, with absolutely nothing interesting to see, no traces of civilization, and no sounds but the overly spirited twittering of birds circling above their heads, which he is starting to find increasingly irritating. Heavens, he needs to get out of here, because right now his body feels as if it’s trying to decide whether it should collapse from exhaustion or boredom.

“That’s it. I will teleport us.” he decides and reaches out for Caspar’s wrist. He has had enough of this new adventure that he — once again — didn’t ask for, but slipped into anyway. He will be taking matters into his own hands now.

“Wait, teleport us where?” Caspar asks, slightly unsettled by the untypical rush in Linhardt’s demeanor that in his experience usually precedes unfortunate events.

“Anywhere.” Linhardt groans. “Anywhere I can sleep and don’t have to listen to this incessant chirping anymore.”

“I like the birds.” Caspar says. 

“They disrupt my concentration! And there isn’t even anything to concentrate on here! Nothing about this place justifies staying here a second longer than we have to.” Linhardt grouches. 

“To be honest, I didn’t even know you _could_ concentrate.” Caspar snorts.

“That’s because concentration is usually not required to do better than you.” Linhardt etches back, not in the mood for jokes. It’s very rare to see him worked up like this, and that makes it even more alarming.

Usually, tired Linhardt cannot be bothered by anything in the world. He would just go to sleep, or, if someone were to force him to do something else, he would keep lamenting about how tired he is, complete the mission anyway, and then sleep immediately after. However, _really_ tired sleep-deprived Linhardt, with neither a mission nor a place to sleep, is different. He is nothing one wants to mess with. There is a reason he is not only affine to faith, but dark spells as well. Even though he does not actively pursue that field anymore, he can get frighteningly uncomfortable if he enters a certain very specific mood, and Caspar is one of the few people to know that, and recognize when it is happening. It is happening right now.

“Okay, Linhardt, wait.” he therefore says. “I’ll— I’ll carry you, okay, and you can sleep, and as soon as I spot a place we can stay, then you can warp us there. Does that sound alright?”

Linhardt does not look very convinced. “I doubt you can lift me, never mind all the baggage you are already carrying, and then there is mine in add—” But he does not get to finish his sentence because Caspar has already squatted down in front of him, then reached for and grabbed his legs without further notice. Linhardt can only quickly throw his hands around his neck and hold on desperately to avoid falling over as he is picked up. “You could at least wait for an answer to the question you asked!” he complains and tries to free his legs to get back down, but they are stuck tight in Caspar’s grip. Where does he even draw all that ridiculous stamina of his from? Not even to mention his stubbornness. It is admirable, really. 

Linhardt gives up struggling immediately because he has neither strength nor will to fight the inevitable. And he can’t say he dislikes being carried by Caspar. Caspar’s arms are strong so he holds him securely, and he appears to be considerate enough not to make overly brusque movements. Linhardt relaxes, glad he won’t have to exhaust his aching limbs any longer. He lets himself fall into Caspar’s grip and rests his head on his shoulder. He has slept in worse places...

—

“Linhardt! Linhardt! Wake up! We have arrived!...” Linhardt is woken from a surprisingly deep slumber. He opens his eyes to blue strands of strawy hair hanging in his face. It contradicts sharply with an image that has up until now been burned into his mind. Caspar’s hair. It’s long. Since when...? Linhardt stills as he comes to a realization. They have been traveling for over a year. Hair grows noticeably over the course of a year. 

...How long is his own hair?

“Linhardt!” Caspar repeats, this time more urgently. It is now that Linhardt catches on to how utterly exhausted the voice calling him sounds. “I’m at my limit. But we’re here. We’re here.” Caspar mutters more to himself, panting heavily and struggling to keep his balance as he pulls the two of them the last steps towards a building at the edge of the woods.

“Why didn’t you have me warp us the last way?” Linhardt asks, confused as to why he would torture himself carrying him longer than he has to, especially if it’s been draining him to such an extreme.

“You were sleeping” Caspar squeezes out as if that fact should leave no room for discussion, and while Linhardt agrees that not waking him up is (almost) always the better option, the wheezing breaths he hears from the man whose stamina he up until now has believed to be inexhaustible sound immensely concerning. Linhardt thinks to himself he would rather be woken up early than wake up lying on a corpse... But luckily, Caspar seems to be about as hard to bring to fall as a demonic beast. 

The grip around his legs loosens and it feels like a rusty lock is finally opening. Linhardt falls to the ground more than he is put down. “You need rest.” he states, and Caspar cannot argue with that because he is too busy trying to keep on his feet. “If you happen to need to... get rid of something... I can warp you back those last few steps into the forest.” Linhardt offers accomodatingly, though his offer stems more from the fear of having to clean up a mess than actual concern.

“I’m... alright...” Caspar wheezes.

“You do not look like it.” Linhardt tells him honestly. 

Caspar flings him a murderous smile. Then he suddenly stops in motion as something catches his attention. “A... p-person...” he stutters in fascination and stretches out his hand towards the building, as if a miracle had just descended from the sun. Linhardt feels a tiny bit offended. Is it really that lonesome in his company? But he is left no time to sulk on it because Caspar has drawn himself up in the meantime to hurry towards the building, tiredness falling off of him as his steps quicken.

“Hey, old man!” he shouts towards the silhouette of a person at the door as he makes his way over, and Linhardt can only stumble behind him and hope his blatant lack of manners won’t get them into a fight again.

Luckily, this person at the door seems to have no issues with being called an old man. The fact that he does not even bat an eye at their undoubtably not overly orderly appearance implies that he has already more than once come to face with unusual people like them. Or strange situations in general. They do live in strange times, so Linhardt assumes that two ragged men coming out of the forest most likely aren’t much of an event around here. It would honestly be fair for the man to assume they were bandits and chase them off, but he doesn’t. “I have never seen you two around here.” he greets them without any notion of surprise or fear. “Travelers, I assume?”

Linhardt confirms with a nod. 

“Are you in need of a meal? A place to stay the night, perhaps?”

“YES!” Caspar shouts as he has barely finished his sentence.

The man laughs. “Well then, welcome to my inn. It’s quite popular around here, though you don’t look like you’re all too familiar with the area.”

“Yeah, no, I just followed my gut” Caspar laughs as well, as if “following his gut” had brought them anything but trouble. But he appears to be in high spirits again having met someone to chat with. Linhardt finds himself feeling tired again. He’d love a comfortable couch to lie down on right now.

“Hey, you’re a fighter, right?” Caspar suddenly asks, eyeing the man’s clothing, specifically the belt with a sword stuck to its side. “I remember seeing this style of craftsmanship in an old weapon deposit.”

At that the man throws him a surprised glance. “I used to be a knight, but I gave up on it even before the war.” he says after a short pause, and even though he decides to share that part of his past with them, there is now a cautiousness in his voice. He seems to look at them a hint more attentively now, though he mostly looks at Caspar because Linhardt tends to grow invisible standing behind him. 

The innkeeper does not tell them which side he has once fought for when there had not yet been sides. They don’t ask. Not only because they want to avoid conflict, but also because it is of no importance to them. They have agreed not to speak about their names and heritage. Here, on their journey, they are but two travelers who happen to send letters to the Emperor once in a while. They have not cast away their names; but they have put them on hold. It feels good that way. Flexible. They’re free, though they mostly owe that to Edelgard’s support of their endeavors. Caspar talks a great deal about how he is going to repay her. Linhardt thinks their occasional discoveries ought to be enough.

A small silence is announcing itself — but there are no silences with Caspar. “Hey, is that horse for sale?” he asks, having spotted the black-dotted mare tied to a pillar near the door. Linhardt contemplates whether miraculously discovering new topics for conversation should be considered a talent.

To both their surprise, the man confirms. “It is! And I am willing to bargain if you are interested.”

Caspar spins around to look excitedly at his travel companion. He cannot believe their luck. Linhardt, however, is less enthusiastic. He doesn’t particularly care for horses, especially not if he has to hold himself on the back of one. They are stubborn beasts, and riding them is extremely strength-consuming. Not to mention the high degree of focus needed...

“We _are_ interested!” Caspar responds before there has even been time to think about potential alternatives. “Right, Linhardt?” 

Linhardt doesn’t answer at first. He has, despite Caspar’s eager response, started thinking about alternatives, but so far, his mental search has unfortunately not been successful. “I suppose we could find worse means of transportation.” is all he can finally bring himself to say, and it does not sound convincing, but Caspar has already stopped listening anyway.

“So you would bargain, huh?” A hint of mischief spreads on the blue-haired traveler’s face as he observes the horse tipsing around on the spot. He looks at the man, hands on his hips, and grins. “Then how about I fight you for it?”

“Um, no, I’m afraid that’s not an option.” he is turned down instantly. _Luckily_ , Linhardt thinks. This is a typical Caspar idea, which means it can only end in disaster. Sadly, it being a typical Caspar idea also means Caspar will not give up on it so easily.

“Come on, just a sparring match! I won’t hurt you, I promise! At least not seriously...”

“Still no.”

“What exactly is the point of this?” Linhardt steps in, who is already tired of Caspar’s nonsense. “It would be easier to just buy it.”

“That would be no fun!” Caspar objects.

“I am not betting my horse, I need the money!” The man sounds exhausted, and Linhardt does not blame him in the least. “Besides, who would even agree to such a senseless gamble?”

“I would.” Caspar says just to spite them.

“We have money, Caspar. Just _buy_ the horse.” Linhardt implores him. The man nods in agreement.

“Well, speaking of money, there might be a problem...” Caspar scratches his head. Suddenly, he grows silent, and looks at the ground, and does not look back up, until everything is so quiet the air aches. Caspar von Bergliez, at a loss of words.

“Good heavens, say it already.” Linhardt sighs.

“...I sort of lost all of it back at the last inn.”

“You _what_?” Linhardt needs a moment to realize the meaning of those words. What in the heavens has Caspar accomplished again. “You are aware that money was all we possess?” he asks, and there is that hint of sarcasm in his voice which has over the course of their travels steadily, unnoticedly found its way into his demeanor.

Caspar closes his eyes, hoping he won’t have to explain himself. “Sorry, I’m afraid we cannot buy the horse.” is all he says.

While Linhardt honestly can’t bring himself to feel overly sad about _that_ loss, he does mourn after the money. He can’t believe they have been traveling without money for the last... how many days have passed since they left the last town? He doesn’t know, and also doesn’t really care. He looks at Caspar for a moment that probably feels longer than just a moment for everyone else. Should he be angry? He doesn’t like getting emotionally worked up, it’s exhausting... These are problems you don’t have when you travel alone, where someone else’s mistakes generally don’t affect you. Traveling alone one doesn’t have to decide whether or not to react to a companion’s idiocy in a certain way. Linhardt keeps staring, trying to come to a conclusion. Then something in the way Caspar looks back, genuinely sorry, makes him turn away. “Well, I suppose there is nothing we can do about it.”

Caspar looks at him surprisedly, but is happy to drop the subject. “Then what now?” he asks, throwing a glance to both their nearly empty pockets. They have little food and water left, and only a very scarce selection of equipment. If there’s one thing that could easily solve some of their problems right now, it’s money.

“Hm.” Linhardt says, eyeing the man. “The only solution I can think of would be robbing him. But I suppose that wouldn’t be the right way, would it?”

“Linhardt!” Caspar hits him in the side.

Linhardt throws him an almost murderous glance. “I am joking! Come, I will carry our belongings into the town. We may be able to find a meal there.”

“So no horse...” Caspar sighs. He sounds seriously disappointed.

“No horse.” Linhardt confirms, feeling a weight in his voice, even though he can’t really understand why. He lifts their baggage with a spell, then uses it to pick up Caspar as well, and heave him onto his back. Another one of the useful things a mage will learn only from books or travelers, because no one bothers to teach you quality of life spells at a military academy in preparation of a war. 

While Linhardt doesn’t like concentrating on spells of any nature, especially for a longer time period, he fears that if he were to let Caspar take their belongings right now, he would probably drop them after making two steps, and then drop out himself. So this time it’s his turn to be allowed some rest... Linhardt owes him at least that. Caspar does not object and relaxes thankfully on his back while he scans their surroundings and spots a broader path that most likely leads towards the center of the town. He sighs and prepares to depart.

Then suddenly, he notices the inn keeper staring at him and halts. The man doesn’t say anything at first, just stands still for a moment, eyes fixed on the floating baggage, wringing his hands. Then he looks up at him. “You’re a mage...” he states carefully. “Do you... happen to know a healing spell?”

“Oh!” Caspar jumps in. “He’s the best healer you could stumble upon across the entirety of the Empire!” He hits Linhardt’s shoulder jokingly. Linhardt frowns.

“I happen to be quite skilled with healing spells, indeed.” he confirms and can’t help but wonder if there is a reason for the caution in the man’s voice. 

“Why, is there someone in peril?” Caspar asks.

“My child.” the man answers, still sounding uneasy. “This very horse ran him over — by accident, of course. I’m selling it mostly to afford his recovery. I’m afraid he won’t make it much longer. So if you’re able to heal injury, please...”

“Of course we can help!” Caspar offers immediately, sincere worry on his face. “You can trust my friend. He knows what he’s doing, he’s—”

“I know what I am doing, yes.” Linhardt interrupts him before he can run his mouth any further. “And I will help your child. On the condition that you leave us the horse, of course. And a warm meal, and a shelter for the night.”

“Linhardt!” Caspar exclaims once more.

“What? I am merely offering a trade.” Linhardt replies calmly.

“This will decide about someone’s life! It’s nothing to trade!”

“Any other healer would take money, too.”

He’s right; but to Caspar it still feels wrong. However, he cannot argue, because right now they are effectively left with nothing. No money, little to no food, barely functioning clothes. Heavens, he needs a bath... He resigns and steps back, signaling his retreat from the discussion.

“Will you accept?” Linhardt asks the man, and his eyes seem a bit colder than usual.

“Of— of course—” he replies, and turns to the door immediately, waiting for them to follow. They go after him and together they enter the wooden house, where they take a turn to the right to make their way up a narrow flight of stairs.

“My name is Coral.” the innkeeper introduces himself as they walk up. 

“Thank you for your kindness.” Caspar says. Linhardt nods. 

A few seconds later, Coral carefully opens a door to their right. “Darling, it’s me.” he whispers through the gap. “I brought a healer.” He signals them to come in.

The child is lying in the bottom left corner, in a bed twice the length of its body. It looks lost like a reversed ladybug on the palm of a hand. Paying direct attention, one can hear his shallow breathing, and see his chest move somewhat regularly. He does not react when they enter but they can sense he’s aware of them. His eyes are locked on the direction of the door. Caspar takes a step forward with a smile but freezes when the child flinches back. His eyes are glistening in fever, but the fear in them is real.

“It’s okay, darling”, Coral reassures him, swiping some sweaty hair out of his face. “They’re here to help you.” He looks at the travelers apologetically. “Come close slowly.” he tells them.

”No need to come closer, I can do it from here.” Linhardt says calmly standing in the door. He lifts his hand subtly, directing his focus to the body on the other end of the room. It’s more difficult from a distance, but Linhardt is experienced. Caspar knows better than to disrupt his concentration, and retreats back to the wall. Observable by the eye, the child’s wounds close, until only the skin remains red and a little bit swollen. The boy trembles heavily throughout the whole process.

 _I haven’t done this since the war_ , Linhardt thinks to himself, but deems it wiser not to say that out loud. After he has healed all that he can he breathes out in relief, relaxes his tense body and swipes some strands of long greasy hair back out of his face. “He should not be in danger anymore.” he states. “Just teach him to stay away from horses.”

Coral laughs mildly at that. “I will.” he says. He squats down next to the bed and takes his son’s hand carefully. “Can you move, little one?” he asks and the boy turns his head towards him with the hint of a nod, though he still doesn’t dare to speak. His eyes remain anxiously fixed on the two of them on the other side of the room.

“He’s just a little shy with strangers.” Coral says. “We are both very thankful. Why don’t you go downstairs to the hall? You can get a meal and some drinks there.” 

Nobody objects. They turn around with a nod and shut the door behind them quietly.

—

“I wonder if there is another reason for that child’s fear.” Caspar ponders as they make their way down to the hall.

“You don’t know what a mage might’ve done to this town.” Linhardt replies.

“I still feel we are demanding too much.” Caspar worries. “The child was so scared of us, and Coral might’ve been, too.”

“Why are you so hung up on this?” Linhardt doesn’t understand. ”You killed hundreds like him on the battlefield.” 

Even though Caspar knows this was not meant to be a reproach, the words still hurt him. But he doesn’t want to fight. “Well, now we have a horse and shelter for the night. I won’t complain.”

“You are complaining right now.”

“Usually it is you complaining, so let it be my turn for once.” Caspar sounds sour and a trace of it feels serious, so Linhardt lets it go. 

They enter the hall, get a meal, meet some other travelers, and Caspar wins a bundle of carrots in an arm wrestling competition. He quickly decides not to sulk anymore because really, he is mentally unable to sulk for longer than 30 seconds, especially because he knows that this is just how Linhardt’s mind works. So instead, he enjoys spending some time in like-minded company for a change.

“Finally, a bath and some rest” Linhardt sighs in relief after he has finally succeeded in dragging (tipsy) Caspar away from his new (drunk) friends before anyone could invite them to join them on their journey. (This seemed unlikely at first, considering the group of three were headed west while the two of them would be heading north; however, Linhardt will never again assume that Caspar’s mind wouldn’t come up with ideas to “work out” such problems.) He turns to the hallway that leads to the rooms, but a hand on his arm holds him back.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Caspar looks at him with a mild grin. “I want to visit our new friend first.” 

Linhardt considers for a moment to go up to the room without him, but he is not quick enough in making a decision. Caspar grabs his wrist and pulls him outside. To both their surprise, the cool and cloudy night is not cold at all. Mild moonlight lights the airy fog. The horse is tipsying around in a small stable and neighs when it catches sight of them. Then the closer they get, the more agitated it appears to become, and Linhardt is impressed (and slightly worried) by the fact that Caspar does not seem cautious in the least.

“Wow, I’ve never met wild ones like this at the academy”, he marvels instead as he approaches it without hesitation.

“It did run over a child. I doubt its personality will be overly calm.” Linhardt comments.

“It was an accident!” Caspar repeats Coral’s words and stresses every word as if he was defending the horse in court. “This sweet girl would never hurt anyone willfully, would you now?” He pats the beast’s neck and sticks a carrot under its muzzle, which is gone within 3 seconds. He feeds it another one. 2 seconds. For a short while, they stand leaning against the stable door, hearing nothing but the horse’s continuous chewing. Caspar feeds it all the carrots he has earned.

“You’re a good girl.” he praises her and pets her intensely. If Linhardt were a horse and had this much energy, he would’ve already kicked him, but this one, though appearing fierce, seems to also enjoy fierce cuddles. For a moment Linhardt worries that Caspar will find it a better travel companion than him because their personalities really do align perfectly. But then who would get them out of trouble (or rather prevent them from getting into it in the first place, which he likes to think he does, but sadly isn’t as effective at as he would like). 

They stay outside for another while, not talking much, just staring at the forest and the sky and the fog. It’s a nice evening, a peaceful one, and they’re further soothed by the fact that they’ll have a comfortable bed to sleep in for once. The moon has risen high when they make their way back inside.

—

In their room, they change out of their dirty clothes and rinse themselves with the cold water which was provided for them and which Linhardt heats. Caspar once again marvels at how impressive fire magic is. “Man, I should’ve become a mage...” he mumbles to himself. “But then I wouldn’t get to beat the bad guys up, only shoot fire at them. I wish I could try it for just a day… Like an ability trade! I should ask Hubert if he—” He frowns. “No, on second thought, I should not ask him.” He turns to Linhardt. “Hey, Linhardt, do you happen to know a way to—”

“I need sleep...” the mage yawns over his monologue from the other end of the room, not listening to his blathering at all.

“You just slept until maybe 2 hours ago!” Caspar shoots back. He does not like being ignored.

“I’m tired and it’s dark so I see no reason not to...” is the reply he gets, and he hears the other man fall down onto the bed. Then he suddenly looks over to Caspar and the hint of an almost inviting smile is on his face. “But... if you don’t want me to, I could instead use this opportunity to ask you what you did to our money.”

Oh. The money. There is a short silence, until Caspar throws himself onto the other side of the bed and sighs deeply. “It was an accident.” he says.

Linhardt looks at him, now with open suspicion. “What type of accident?” he asks. “A ‘someone stole it’ accident or a ‘I lost it’ accident?”

“Well... both… sort of...” Caspar replies. A painful smile spreads on his face.

“ _Both?_ ”

“I went outside to join some company, remember, that group of four we had met earlier—”

“—that I had told you to stay away from...”, Linhardt completes his sentence.

“...that you had told me to stay away from, yes.” Caspar sighs. “But they proposed a really fun game, with free food for me, and money for the winner!”

“Except that you weren’t the winner.” Linhardt sighs.

“But I was!” Caspar objects. “It was an eating competition! I’ve never lost an eating competition! But... while I was winning against the guy, the others snatched my money and ran away...” 

“So it’s entirely your fault for being uncautious.” Linhardt states. It’s not an angry or reproaching statement, just a factual one. In the end, they have money back at home, and they can also sell the horse in the next city. It’s just a minor inconvenience. “You are going to need to put an end to that habit of yours.” he says and lets out a yawn. 

“Yeah, well.” Caspar responds and rolls over to the side to look at him. “It would be boring if I was as intelligent and reasonable as you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought less about the details and phrasing of this one than i normally do when writing. it was sort of an attempt to clean my head, to be under less stress while writing. what can i say, it feels... really good!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2: where caspar makes friends with a horse, a wyvern, and a cat

The next morning they leave their room at daybreak, and a few minutes later pass through the small town at whose edge the inn stands, preparing to cross the countryside towards a larger town where hopefully, they will be able to find new clothes and scrape up some money. Unfortunately, as they only have one horse and one of them is very not used to sitting on the back of one, they can’t go too fast — or so one would think. Caspar, however, has his own perspective on things. 

“The only solace I find in this is that we are at the very least not flying” Linhardt laments, making a face that more than matches his words, his voice hacked with each hefty impact on the ground as their bodies are rattled in a violent gallop.

“Flying? I could arrange that” Caspar responds, and there is mockery in his voice as he maneuvers the horse way too recklessly down the rocky path.

Linhardt only throws him a highly skeptical glance. “I don’t remember you ever sitting on a Wyvern’s back, and I don’t think I want to see you try.” he says. _Actually I would, just for my own amusement_ , he adds silently, but decides not to give voice to that thought. 

“What are you saying?” Caspar sounds sulky. “I _have_ mounted a Wyvern! Edelgard taught me herself. You were there!” 

That causes Linhardt to finally recall something. “You are not talking about that miserable attempt of climbing its back that ended with you falling down the stairs, are you?”

“I almost had it!” Caspar claims self-assuredly. “Next time, I am going to subjugate it to my will!”

“I believe you’ll be more successful if you try to harmonize with it, not force it. Raw strength won’t help you against a monster tenfold your size.” Linhardt points out, (once again) trying to make clear to him that pure strength of will won’t solve each of his problems.

But Caspar only laughs exuberantly at his words and looks back at him to show him a proud grin. “Excuse me, the demonic beasts I took down with my very fists would like a word with you!”

Linhardt sighs. His wisdom is truly wasted on this man. Really, the only reason he allows him to accompany him on his travels is that he didn’t want to go through the trouble of talking him out of it. Well, and maybe that they get along pretty well (when they aren’t fighting). Sadly, his company also brings other changes, such as constantly having to watch out for reckless maneuvers that could get them killed. Also being forced to get up early in the morning. Though that last aspect, while it is torturous, is probably not entirely detrimental to the research. Linhardt would prefer not having to get up at all, but then he truly wouldn’t get anywhere. So having Caspar around to (forcefully) remind him that there were more interesting things to see than whatever surface he was currently resting on... could perhaps even be called a benefit.

Though really, there is another reason Linhardt abides his company, namely that he sadly has to admit that Caspar, while he is four hands full of trouble, has over the years grown to become something like his other half; the one that pushes forward, and reminds him that in this war-ridden land there are still things to discover, things to be laughed at, knowledge and adventures worth chasing, even if it meant spending additional effort. With any other human being Linhardt probably wouldn’t be able to spend longer than a day without their company growing insufferable, but Caspar is different. Caspar’s insufferableness Linhardt is familiar with. It is, in a way, inseparably attached to his life, and he would miss it were it to be gone. The truth is he cares about him, cares about the strange kind of understanding they have of each other; and more often than not, he is having fun.

“Try not to make this horse throw us off its back.” he comments as they keep jumping down the rocks way too fast.

“What are you talking about, this horse adores me!” Caspar laughs, and Linhardt is starting to suspect that they will not be selling it in the next town.

“That’s because it happens to be as crazy as you...” he sighs.

“‘It’ is a ‘her’!” Caspar corrects him, patting the mare’s neck. “And she loves running. Don’t you, dear?” They accelerate even further and jump bumpily over a small river that appeared before them, the impact of which almost throws Caspar over the horse’s head.

 _Good heavens, what have I got myself into_ , Linhardt thinks.

—

After a short while, they have finally (finally) reached the end of the rocky path and ride onto a grass-covered road into vast planes. The city is still a fair distance away, but they will most likely make it by sundown. They don’t talk for a while, only feeling the light wind brushing their faces, and the now somewhat even rhythm of the horse’s run. Then suddenly, Caspar looks up to the yellow light orange sky and his eyes lock on something in the distance.

“Hey Linhardt, check this out! It’s a Wyvern!” he shouts excitedly.

Linhardt does not look up at first. “Your eyes must be playing a trick on you. Why would there be a—” He freezes.

“DUCK!!” he cries out as the beast takes flight towards them. The yank of Caspar tearing around the horse is the only thing he can register before huge claws are already brushing closely past his head and tangling up in his hair. He ducks away to the side, ripping out a couple of them in the process, and casts a thunder spell, but it shows no effect. He catches a glance of the person riding the creature — a mage? — and there’s a still moment where their focuses lock on each other, but then the Wyvern takes them out of sight just as fast as they approached.

“Bandits!” Caspar shouts and Linhardt turns his head to spot some horses in the distance.

“We do look like easy prey...” he mutters with a hint of despair as he tries to keep his balance on the jumping back of the horse. “Turn around, quickly!”

”Hey guys, listen!” Caspar yells through the wind. “We don’t have any money!” But it doesn’t seem to have much of an effect.

“Watch ou—” Linhardt starts out but cuts off as the horse makes another hectic turn. He is so focused on observing the riders gathering and approaching from afar that he doesn’t notice the Wyvern drawing close again. He senses a movement in his back and ducks in an instinct, but doesn’t really understand what’s happening until the fabric on his shoulder is ripped open by diving claws, a wing brushes over his head in a shadow, and a cry spreads in front of him as the body he has sat tight against is lifted out of the seat.

Linhardt’s mind freezes for only a heartbeat. Caspar soars up, soars further — and he’s out of warp spell reach. The horse panics and he has to divert focus in order not to slide off to the ground and be trampled on. 

“Caspar!” he shouts towards the sky he cannot see right now, aware that it won’t help anything. “Ca— Caspar!” he cries again nevertheless.

He regains his balance and then for once in his life Linhardt moves, moves fast, knowing only that he needs to act, act, act _something_ , and now. He spots the Wyvern in the sky and without wasting time thinking, he teleports himself. He feels his body being pulled away and instantly appears in the air on top of the beast. His aim is off only a little bit, he drops down a short distance and falls onto the Wyvern’s body as anticipated, but further down the tail than he would’ve liked. He hastily grasps for anything in his reach to hold onto and luckily, he finds some halt, and runs through his options quickly. Meanwhile, the movement of the Wyvern’s flight stirs his guts and the air it’s cutting through hits him like a cold whip, but he leans into it and finally catches a glimpse of the rider; a tall man, long black hair tied back, most likely a mage — Linhardt wastes no time inspecting him because he has already been noticed. He needs to get out of range this instant.

He thinks he hears the man shout “VON HEVRING” through the layers of wind, but it could’ve also been something completely different. He clutches on desperately, gathers focus, then warps him and Caspar out of the air as quickly as he can.

They plummet down on the ground. Linhardt’s eyes dart over to Caspar, whose expression is wide and empty in shock. He’s staring at his palms, then he starts trembling. “Linhardt” is all he can say at first. “It... it took me. It just took me. Into the air! In its claws! I thought I was done for! I thought I was about to die! I—”

“Be careful, it might come back.” Linhardt replies, panting, keeping on his feet and anxiously scanning the sky. “I think I heard him say my name, but I might be mistaken.”

“Just blast him if he comes back!!” Caspar cries, also raising his eyes to the sky towards where he believes the Wyvern went. 

“Don’t worry.” Linhardt answers grimly. “He will not get this close again.” Already, he hears the horses approach from behind the hill and launches a massive wall of flames towards them. Some of the dry grass catches fire. The horses back off. Then Caspar grabs his shoulder and points to their left into the sky where a brown dot grows larger. This time, Linhardt will make sure he doesn’t reach them. He takes a breath, stretches his arms out and summons a meteor, which crashes down towards the flying target. 

“There’s no way you’ll hit him with this!” Caspar pants desperately. The meteor shoots down at incredible speed — and misses by a hair’s breadth. It brushes past the Wyvern’s wing which causes it to fly a violent turn to dodge. Instantly, it’s brought out of balance by the turbulence in the air, and comes soaring down fast towards the ground. As its feet touch down heavily, the mage on its back is thrown off and hits the ground. Immediately, Caspar charges towards him, and before the man can get to his feet he’s jumped at him and grabbed him by his clothes, but his opponent has already come to his senses and in the split of an instant he’s warped away, leaving Caspar next to the Wyvern holding nothing but air. “Where did he go?” the warrior gasps frantically, scanning his surroundings. 

“There!” Linhardt’s eyes focus on the horses who have circled around the spreading fire towards them, five in total, and one of them is carrying two people. He prepares to attack, though his calculation of their chances does not come out favorable for them. He flinches when he suddenly feels Caspar’s hand on his upper arm.

“Do you know what I think we should do?” he is asked. When he looks over, he sees a face with a cocky smirk on it, that specific cocky smirk which is not a good sign. “We should hijack that Wyvern.”

“ _No way._ ” Linhardt responds immediately after Caspar has barely shut his mouth. “You wouldn’t even be able to fly it if it was friendly towards you.”

“Watch me, I’ll prove it!” Caspar shouts and runs towards the beast.

“I don’t care about your proof!” Linhardt shouts back, but runs after him anyway. When he catches up, Caspar is already climbing onto its back. It seems to be well-trained, doesn’t move much and doesn’t fly away without its rider, and surprisingly, it also doesn’t resist the stranger’s attempt to mount it. Linhardt watches him fall into the seat, hesitates, and throws a glance behind him where the riders are approaching. He believes he can see the mage stretch out an arm towards them so he gives in, shuts off his mind and throws himself at the Wyvern.

While Caspar pulls him up by his arms he asks out of breath: “What about the horse?” 

“She’s smart. She’ll get it.” Caspar is sure. Then he looks forward, straightens his body and puts a hand on the Wyvern’s neck. Leaning forward he tenses up. Somehow, the Wyvern responds to him. How has Linhardt not gotten the hell out of there yet. Only few seconds later they are shaking in violent wing flaps, gaining height faster than one of them would like it.

“Woaaaahhh this is the best!!!” Caspar shouts and throws his arms into the air. The Wyvern flies a sharp turn. He almost loses grip.

“AHHH” he cries as they dash way too quickly way too high and the only reason Linhardt doesn’t scream his lungs out with him is that he is too busy clinging to him for his life. Why didn’t they teach him spells for situations like this at the academy? The only thing he knows how to do is kill the beast, which would in fact very effectively calm it down, but unfortunately also cause their deaths in the process. He glimpses down to the ground, the sweet green soft ground, where surprisingly, the horse is giving its all to follow them. Just what kind of connection has Caspar managed to establish to it? They leave the riders behind them, who quickly give up the chase. Still, even though none of them voice it, both of them are tense, jumpy, and unable to relax until finally, the Wyvern lands at the outer wall of the city. 

“We made it!” Caspar cheers when they’re on their own feet again. “We really made it!” In a rush of excitement he stretches his arms out for a hug. Linhardt doesn’t resist, and puts his right hand on the gleeful man’s back to hold him for a moment of relief. Then he falls down onto the grass next to the road. 

“I will never… fly… or use a warp spell again… ever...” he pants.

“You want me to carry you the last way to the city?” Caspar offers.

“You’re as worn out as I am.” Linhardt reminds him. “Let’s just walk slowly.”

—

A few minutes later they have managed to find a place for the Wyvern somewhere on the backside of the city, close enough to it to make sure the bandits won’t come there to discover it.

“Now, all we need is some money.” Linhardt says. “I suggest we sell the Wyvern.”

Caspar’s eyes grow big. “I don’t want to sell him, he’s our baby!” he wails as Linhardt casts a spell to make sure it stays in place.

“Well, I would prefer new clothes and a haircut to a baby right now.” he responds. “Babies are…” — he yawns — “...too much work. Besides, we still have the horse.” he then adds, and that’s probably about as compromising as Linhardt can get.

Caspar makes a sad face, looks at his new big friend and stretches out his hand to pet its head. Unbelievably, it’s not bitten off. How does he get along with animals this well? Do all the animals they’ve encountered so far just happen to be airheads like him? Maybe he should’ve become a Wyvern Lord with his gift. Linhardt has to admit it’s fairly impressive what he managed to accomplish on his first try. There would’ve certainly been worse possible Wyvern Lords... Like Linhardt himself, ~~or Hubert, who can’t even bear riding a Pegasus.~~

In the end, they agree to discuss the Wyvern selling in the morning, because it’s already very late and both of them notice how starved they are. Luckily, they still have enough provisions for one meal; and Linhardt has found a couple of coins in his inner pocket. Enough for one night. They start out towards the city, but haven’t walked ten meters when Caspar stops short. Linhardt looks over his shoulder, sees the reason, and lets out an exhausted sigh.

“Caspar, please don’t pick up a cat again.” At this point, he is so hungry he can barely speak, and cannot believe they are stopping just because a certain someone has randomly spotted a ball of fur covering in a corner.

“But Linhardt, look at his eyes!” Caspar holds up the grey fluffy blob in front of his face. “Please let me take him to dinner.” The kitten stares at him intensely and stretches out its paws; Caspar’s eyes in the back are just as expressive. There’s no use resisting either of them.

Originally, they had planned to go into the city to find a place to stay, but at the side of the road they bump into a mixed group of people around a fire, all travelers like them. As soon as they approach, they’re invited to sit down on the grass, have some food with them, and join the conversation. It’s the same conversation all assemblies of travelers have; laughing and boasting about their experiences, sharing and trading food and equipment, and reminiscing over the charm of adventure.

Ah, yes, the charm of adventure... for Linhardt it had always ended in the discoveries he made indulging in books of the library. Everything beyond that, all that didn’t align with his personal interest, had been nothing but a chore to him, however exciting it might’ve seemed to others. Only when he hit the limits of the written word he went to actively seek out information himself, about foreign lands and magic and crests. 

He knows that during the war, he has seen more of the horrors and truths of the world, of the powers and the pain the crests are intertwined with, than the library could’ve ever revealed to him. He had rather not made that experience — he dreams about it like all of them, perhaps just a little less due to his analytical side — but he is aware that it has opened quite a few perspectives to him where they have been taken from others, and he knows better than not to make use of them. 

Linhardt knows how to utilize his knowledge, and how to broaden it. He does not waste his time regretting things of the past or the present. Despite his weak will, he has a strength and calm of mind he is able to keep under even the most disturbing circumstances. Maybe that’s why he has been able to make peace with who he is, and move towards where he wants to go at his own pace. Maybe that’s also what matches him so closely to Caspar, who is the exact opposite: hot-willed and impulsive, driven by emotion and empathy. When Linhardt set out back then to fill the gaps in his knowledge, he planned on pursuing strictly nothing but the things he wants to know more about; but now somehow his journey has also become Caspar’s journey, and it has grown into something vastly different from what he originally intended. 

But that’s okay. Looking at Caspar’s cheerful expression, his excitement to dash forward into the unknown to discover not only big ploys and deep connections but small wonders, ordinary people, unexpected beauty and maybe some big excitement once in a while — Linhardt has to admit it’s not so bad. Though frankly he’d prefer the occasional big excitements they encounter to be less deadly, he has learned that some kind of fun can be found in quite a few of the places they intentionally or accidentally end up in.

Caspar passes him a large piece of meat while he chews on his own. “You really spent all your strengths today. Eat up.” he squeezes out of his completely stuffed mouth. The cat meows and climbs on his shoulder, trying to reach for the food in his hand. No wonder he fits perfectly into any group of ordinary travelers they encounter. His lack of manners brings out mild remembrance of their days at the academy, and Linhardt finds a smile spreading and resting on his face. Some things remain the same. 

Though actually, the two of them are fairly different from back then. They are their own masters now, they make their own path, they decide for themselves what they want to see. They can dash forward towards the sky like young green-leaved trees, unbothered by vegetation around them trying to suffocate their growth. Now that they are free they can grow in a different way, grow for their own sake, to get closer to the sun. Linhardt has never tried to reach towards the sun, it was always too hot a path for him to take. But right now, as they sit exhausted in the last succumbing vibrations of their adrenaline, he finds he likes the warmth of the fire, and even the prospect of a new day. A light promising morning, calling for them to go. He feels the desire to stretch out to the opportunities it holds out to him. So this is what ambition, what greed feels like. Frightening, but intriguing. He might give it a try.

Caspar grins as a starved Linhardt grabs and wolfs down the meat. In that moment the heaviness filling his stomach is as satisfying as a breakthrough in his research. His eyes meet Caspar’s, blue eyes with a determined glim in them, expressing his readiness and unbreakable will to move mountains in order to get the both of them to where they want to go.

Mhm, maybe Linhardt can find some charm in that, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> caspar names the wyvern thunder and the cat lin. linhardt gets to name the horse; he calls it nightmare. caspar is not happy with this and insists on calling it sweetie,


End file.
